After You
by chickenwriter
Summary: The aftermath of Francesca and Robert.


It had been 38 days since she had watched his truck pull out of her driveway. And she wondered if the rest of her life would be counting from that day.

Counting from crumbling to the floor in her kitchen.  
Counting from forgetting to make dinner.  
Counting from making her choice to stay.

 _It was a choice_ , she told herself over and over until the words felt wrong and her hands shook – _it was a choice._

All choices had consequences. Some more painful than others. The consequence of leaving would have meant losing her children. The consequence of staying meant losing herself. She could pick up the phone. She could change her mind. She could wait for him on the porch. She could pack her things. She could find herself again. But just as she would start to think she could leave Iowa behind, Carolyn would start having another panic attack about what to wear on her first date. Michael would go on about saving the farm animals. Bud would bring in the vegetables for dinner. And her life of details would continue chugging on without her permission.

She stood in her kitchen, wiping the sweat off her face. It was cooler now, but somehow she was still warm. Whether it was the stove or the memories, she wasn't sure.

Everything in her house reminded her of him. She would turn in the hallway and catch his scent. She would lay down with Bud at night and imagine Robert's hands.

"Fran!" she jumped at his sharp call as he came into the kitchen.

"You frightened me," she said softly as he approached her at the stove. She watched as he reached across her to grab the salt.

"I was just gonna ask if there were more tomatoes in the fridge"

"Why don't you open it and look?" she said, continuing to stir the pot. She wiped at her brow again.

"What's wrong, Franny?" Bud asked, opening the fridge.

"Nothing, I'm just…hot…it's so hot" she trailed off, sitting down at the kitchen table, head in her hands.

"Will you just tell me what is the matter? You've been like this for weeks. You're always hot."

"No…I don't feel well. I think I need to lay down." Francesca stood and moved the pot to the burner that was off. "I'll finish dinner in a little while"

"Fran! The kids are going down to the football field tonight, we gotta get going" He said loudly.

"Then you finish dinner…" she waved him off and ran to the bathroom. She was suddenly very nauseated.

"Fran?"

"What?"

"Are you sick or something?"

"I don't know, Richard."

Bud walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She hadn't been this sick since she had been pregnant with Carolyn.

Francesca put her hand over her stomach.

 _No._

She shook her head. It was impossible. She was too old, too tired and too broken to bring another life into the Iowa cornfields.

Francesca had assumed it was stress that made her miss her period. Nothing was more stressful than holding in all the falling apart that she wanted to do.

"Oh god, oh god," Francesca sniffled and doubled over again, letting a sob escape.

As her crying subsided, she began to think.

She held her knees to her chest and rested her head, blinking back tears. How could this happen? How could this situation get worse? Of course she couldn't tell Bud who the baby truly was. He would never wrap his mind around it. He wouldn't wrap his mind around her pregnancy at all. She made a quick decision to not tell anyone. Not Bud, not her children, and not Robert.

 _Robert._

The love of her life. The person who brought out the truest form of herself. And now she could add "the father of her unborn child."

Pulling herself up by the counter, she sprinted up the stairs to her room. She plunged her hand into a drawer and came up with a paper. The number that Robert had given to her was already worn. Every moment of precious alone time that she had – she held it to her face, hoping it would bring him nearer. She looked at it differently this time, and she knew.

If she called him, it would be a chance to start over. To build a home again, with him, with this child. But she didn't want to leave everything she had built already. She'd spent 20 years of her life building something from nothing; why should she leave it now?

x0x

A month later, Francesca looked in the mirror at the small bloating of her stomach. She loosened her dress and scoffed.

She hadn't come to peace with her choice to tell Bud it was his. She would go it alone as long as she could, and tell him when it became obvious. She'd been to the doctor in Des Moines. He warned her of the risk of keeping this baby. She was older, it was unlikely that the baby would be born healthy, should it even survive. And the risk to her body was just as great.

As much as an illegal termination would "solve" her problems, Francesca couldn't lose something that had been created out of the purest love she'd ever felt.

 _Day 68_ she thought, pursing her lips in the mirror. Bud had already gone out to the barn. Francesca tried to sleep as late as she could every day – and go to bed as early as she could at night.

"I have to make breakfast" she sighed, hearing the stirring of Carolyn in the room next door. High School made her daughter slightly neurotic. Carolyn was up an hour earlier than she needed to be, ready to go, looking as nice as she could.

"Is there a boy?" Francesca asked her bluntly, over breakfast.

"Mom!" Carolyn looked away, embarrassed. Michael snickered.

"Okay, fine, don't tell me. Michael leave her alone" Francesca said in a monotone. Every day was a similar conversation. She began to clean up the breakfast dishes and waited for Michael to ask if he could drive them to school.

"Mom, can I…" he began.

"No, I need the truck today. You can drive there, and then I'll take the truck home and come and get you later" she said.

"Fran!" Bud called from outside, "Fran, I gotta get something from town, you about ready to take the kids?"

"Yes, Richard, we're leaving now, I have to go into town anyway, what do you need?"

"Feed, for the horses"

"I'll get it," She said, adjusting the paper with Robert's number in her pocket.

–

Francesca hadn't come home yet. Bud got the kids, late, from school. He scrounged up something for dinner. They sat around, confused, thinking about why their mother could have disappeared.

This had never happened. She had never been gone for so long, especially without telling him where she was going. He was worried, but liked to think he could trust her.

After dinner, he and the kids drove into town to look for her. They found nothing but sad looks from neighbors. He wondered why they looked at him like that.

It was nearly 8:30 by the time someone finally spoke to him.

Marge came up to him and grabbed his arm.

"Bud! How's Franny doing?" she asked, a concerned look on her face, "I have to say, I'm surprised to see you out so soon."

He froze.

"Marge, I have no idea what you're talking about. She hasn't come home."

"Oh Bud! She fainted right in the middle of the diner! She had just made a phone call, and she fell right on that ground!" Marge let go of his arm. "They took her to the hospital in Des Moines."

"Oh god…"

Carolyn was nearly in tears.

"Dad! We have to go!" He nodded at his daughter, and they took off for the truck.

The ride to Des Moines was quiet. Michael and Carolyn had always been convinced that their mom was invincible – that she couldn't be hurt in anyway. Recently they had been proven wrong. She was hurting emotionally, and as hard as they tried, it was hard for them to understand.

x0x

The hospital bed was cold, and she couldn't help thinking how much she would rather be in someone's arms.

She needed to be held now.

6 calls to home and no one had answered.

This would be one more thing she had to go through alone.

She let a tear fall and felt it slide down her cheek. She'd cried more in the last two months than she had since she'd came to Iowa. First, gaining and losing Robert in 4 days. Secondly, finding out that she was pregnant and keeping it a secret.

It was difficult to make a life-altering choice again. Would she tell Bud, or Robert? Would she even keep the baby? She knew that none of the choices were exactly what she wanted. She also knew that this pregnancy complicated everything that she had already decided for herself.

She felt so much guilt now.

Had she done something that made her lose her baby?

Had not wanting this baby contributed to its death?

It wasn't that she didn't want it – no – it was just, the wrong time, wrong place, wrong man.

Or it was the right man?

She had started to feel faint when she picked up the phone. She put the receiver back down and tried to make it back out to the truck, but the next thing she knew, she was waking up in the hospital with blood stained sheets.

She felt like she had just closed her eyes when Bud and the kids walked in.

She had already discussed with her doctor that she didn't want any information released to anyone.

"Hi" she faked a smile and opened her arms for Carolyn. She ran to her mother and leaned against her as Francesca kissed her head.

"Mom are you okay?!" Michael said loudly. Bud made a motion to him to hush.

"I'm fine, I just didn't eat much today."

"You gave us a good scare, Franny" Bud said, smoothing her hair.

"I'm okay, just ready to go home." The doctor walked in and nodded at them, and started to prep her for leaving.

Bud made a mental note to ask his wife why there was blood on the bed when she moved.

No one said anything on the way home. They dropped off Michael in town to bring Francesca's truck back.

Bud helped her to bed, and she stayed there for two days. At the first sign that she was feeling better, Bud asked her about the blood while she stood in their bathroom.

"It was nothing, Richard" she said softly, turning to the sink.

"It wasn't nothing, Francesca. Tell me" he demanded. She walked out of the room and sat on their bed.

"No, Richard…I…I fell on something when I fainted" she showed him the bruise on her leg under her nightgown.

"Fran, I've known you for 20 years. I know when you're lying to me" he said, sounding completely defeated.

What did he think happened? What could he possibly know?

"Richard, I'm okay, isn't that all that matters?" she looked at him sweetly.

"Why were you gone so long?" he spat.

"Because I fainted early in the day…I…"

"Why were you in the diner?" he was getting more and more agitated.

"Richard…"

"Fran, please. Is it someone else?" the words felt sour in his mouth.

"No, Richard, I was trying to call Chiara. I'm so homesick. I want to go home, Richard." She began to tear up. Her words were true. She wanted to go home, but she hadn't tried to call Chiara. She tried to call Robert, because she knew he would take her to Italy. He could take her back to Naples, to momma, to Chiara. She wanted her language back, and she wanted to start over. But the call never went through, and she miscarried their child instead.

"You know we can't afford it" Bud sat down next to her.

"I know, let's just move on, okay?" Bud kissed her, and she smiled weakly at him., "I'm tired."

"Fran, we haven't made love in more than a month, almost two. Since before the fair."

"I'm sorry" she whispered and walked out of the room, back to the life that she had chosen to live.


End file.
